


first things first, take a deep breath

by the_unknown_storyteller



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Fire, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_unknown_storyteller/pseuds/the_unknown_storyteller
Summary: Magic is a living entity that can not be tamed. It may befriend you and aid you in your endeavours, but its benevolence is a fickle thing. Even if it has taken a liking to Harrison, it's still so painful when it takes over on the bad days.David isn't a magician and thus he knows next to nothing about magic and its unspoken rules. But he knows his camper is struggling with his otherworldly abilities and he'd be damned if he didn't at least try to help.(Sorry, my obsession over this series didn't last long enough for me to finish this, so for now I'll leave it as it is and finish it some other time... maybe)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	first things first, take a deep breath

The first time it happens it's a Tuesday. The sky is clear, the sun up and over the mountains and David wakes them with a trumpet. 'He can play it surprisingly well', Harrison thinks, as he ties his necktie and adjusts his tophat. It slips off his head and he can't help but frown; it never does that. 

It was the first warning sign of many.

For now he shrugs it off and walks over to the mess hall, waiting with the other campers to be handed their food.

He sits down with Nerris and Preston. They talk and chat and he tells them about this new trick he's developed with a pack of cards. Nerris mocks him for his low level magic tricks and Preston sighs how he doesn't have time for his nonsense - neither of them actually make any move to get up and leave, though, instead looking at him with barely concealed excitement, so Harrison feels encouraged to show them. 

Before he can even attempt to shuffle his cards, they suddenly burst into flames and the fire actually burns him. Not badly enough to wound him, but he's undeniably felt some of the scorching heat and that's when he knew.

Today is going to be a _very bad_ day.

Now that he knows, he can feel it, as his hands twitch ever so slightly throughout all his routines. He notices it when the dove inside his tophat has a broken wing at his morning performance and the knots on his handkerchiefs are barely tightened at all. He tastes it when his lunch rots in his mouth.

The plate of mashed potatoes is pushed away, food barely touched. He's lost his appetite, not only because it tastes rotten, but because _it's_ getting _worse_.

He can feel it writhe, just beneath his skin, itching to escape, to wreak havoc, to hurt someone. And he is scared. The way it tingles at the very tips of his fingers, the way it scratches at his arms more viciously than it usually did back at home. It frightens him. 

So he folds his arms tightly against his body, hands clenched into fists against the fabric of his yellow shirt, noticeably shaking with the tension. His shoulders curl slightly inward and he stays in that hunched over position until lunch is over, deflecting concerned questions with a tight-lipped smile and a shake of the head.

As soon as David tells them to go outside and play, Harrison all but jumps up from his seat and sprints outside. He keeps running, taking a sharp left turn into the bordering forest, not heeding the concerned calls of the other campers and their cheery camp counselor.

Leaves and small branches hit him in the face, clawing at his arms and legs. He doesn't pay any attention to that, though. The tingling has stopped and instead a burning sensation courses through his veins. He heaves a breath and blinks away the building heat behind his eyes.

A small lizard skitters out of his way, dried twigs snapping underneath frantic steps, as Harrison reaches a clearing. Finally.

He falls to the ground in relief, hands finally relaxing, and forfeits control. Almost immediately, a gust of air rushes through the grass surrounding the hurting boy, creating a weak whirlwind. It dances almost daintily through the petals of the fields of wildflowers, playing with the pollen and the bees. A butterfly glides on the current, fluttering up and down, until it accidentally smacks against a tree close to the boy. The air stops dead in its tracks.

Harrison clenches his teeth.

It starts with a howl. The wind takes up speed and howls and screeches, ripping flower crowns from their stems, stomping bugs to the ground. The air feels sharp. It nips away at tree barks and delicate dragonfly wings, at leaves and insect shells.

Flowers grow rapidly, wilting in the blink of an eye, budding and blooming in the next. The sky overhead is starting to darken, heavy clouds circulating and gathering in a storm. The flowers complete one more cycle before they collapse and crumble to the ground in heaps of ash. 

Harrison coughs and heaves through his breaths, suffocated by the heavy air and the immense _pain_ in his arms. The flowers get caught up in the wind current, a faint glow forming, then spreading in swift succession through the forming wall of dead cells. The ash is starting to burn, a fiery inferno confining the magician to his stop on the ground. His hands are shaking, the air feels so hot.

The fire reaches higher and higher, increasing its intensity. Having surpassed the tallest mountains, it twists, turns and slams down onto the ground, rushing towards the surrounding tree-line, reducing them to nothing but scorched stumps. The remaining ash in the air tastes bitter.

In the utter silence that follows, the tired boy involuntarily raises his right hand off the ground. The way it then taps on the dirt with its index finger is almost gentle.

Pure energy ripples through the ruined meadow and dozens of flowers emerge from the deep gray of his previous destruction. Grass peaks through and the insects pick up where they left off in their afternoon symphony. Trees stitch themselves back together or move to hide their broken cousins. 

In the end, the clearing is greener and more colourful than it was before and Harrison is spent. He shakily gets up to a standing position, almost collapsing with the sheer exhaustion dragging at his body. Today's been worse than what he usually has to endure. 

"Harrison?" Familiar red and muted greens approach him from far off to his left. Cheerful yellow against the deep green of the forest promising safety.

"David", he chokes out with relief, hot tears slowly trailing down his pallid cheeks. He wipes them away with trembling hands.

"It hurts so bad," Harrison whispers, weakly gripping at his shirt. Olive green eyes stare up at the camp counselor, clouded with pain and desperation. Warm hands barely catch his falling body, cradling the boy protectively.

"So bad…"

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't quite find the type of fanfics I wanted to read in this fandom, so I decided to write my own
> 
> Surprisingly enough, I finished this one before the other one that started this whole thing
> 
> Ps.: I'm not quite sure yet how the tagging system works, so that's a work in progress for now
> 
> Updates every week or so


End file.
